


23 December

by TheBee



Series: The Bee's 2014 Advent Calendar [23]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Multi-Era, References to Character Death, references to other Doctors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 23:37:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBee/pseuds/TheBee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Susan’s intake of breath was short and sharp. “I finally understand why Grandmum Jackie slapped you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	23 December

**Author's Note:**

> POV: Twelfth Doctor (Capaldi)  
> WARNING: The Doctor's never polite to himself, when he bumps into himself. And when he's stuck around himself, he resorts to rude names. I'd apologize for the Doctor-on-Doctor bashing, but it's in character.  
> Unbeta'd

“Donna’s children?” his Eleventh self sputtered. “Your sister has children?”

“I’m a grandfather again,” Pinstripes whispered, his eyes tracing their metacrisis daughter’s face.

“Yeah,” she replied. “A boy and a girl. And Al’s getting married.”

But were they safe from Gallifrey? It was a good question. He pondered it.

“Should be,” the Doctor decided. “The Time Lords have made contact with me—the very act that put your father at risk was the one that lead to my existence. Well, Clara insisted, so I suppose she’s to blame.” He flicked on the scanner, seeking pinhole openings between this universe and Pete’s World. Susan was going to have to go back soon. In fact, the sooner, the better. “Gallifrey knows which universe I’m in, now. There’s only one of me again; no metacrisis confusing the issue.”

Susan’s intake of breath was short and sharp. “I finally understand.”

“Understand what?” Bow Tie answered.

“Why Grandmum Jackie slapped you.” She turned glittering eyes on him, a glare almost as good as his own, even without the bushy eyebrows. “You’re an arse.”


End file.
